


Contemplation

by icechiild



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: F/M, FEH summons heroes from different timelines, a lot of my own headcanons, based off rp stuff, i named lyns horse her name is alakhai, im sorry i dont know how to tag things, lilina ment, look i reference a whole lot of other characters but im not gonna tag them all, lyn and hector are both dense as hell, lyn loves her daughter so much, madelyn ment, mainly lyn characterization, only lynhec at the end but like its still what prompted me to write this, the heroes universe is bitch anyway, timeline contemplation i guess?, vague reference to arranged marriage but ive not written that whole thing yet, what does love mean lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 17:02:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15369204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icechiild/pseuds/icechiild
Summary: Lyn stares in the eyes of her best friend, and wonders how could she have ever been so blind.[more of a study on lyn and what love is to her. set in FE:Heroes]





	Contemplation

These were not things Lyn could easily ignore, for her heart always beat too loudly than it should, anyone close to her able to see the inner workings of her mind, to hear the songs her heart wished to sing. It was not a matter that Lyn could simply shove to the back part of her consciousness, to only be thought of in the dead of night when the stars danced above her, or to be forgotten, only home found in oblivion. It was not within her to say that she did not, to lie and pretend while the world moved around her as if nothing was moving inside her. 

What were feelings worth if you couldn’t express them? What was the point in loving if you cannot even love the object of your affections? Life, then, is nothing, if you have to cut out every emotion and gouge out your desires with some dull knife. Life was not worth living if you were numb to what you wished to act upon. 

Be damned to formalities, stature, what society dictates is right or not, those have no sway in the matters of the heart. The largest of obstacles mean nothing.

Madelyn would tell her that love is the strongest force in the world, that it can transform and reform, and that it is the greatest necessity of life. That love is not something that can be easily hid, that it is something that should be expressed, for it’s great powers can save and bring purpose. That there is nothing greater than to love and to be loved. That it may come in different shapes, be expressed through different words or song, but still, it is love. 

Lyn would ask her why she couldn’t meet her aunts and cousins and uncles, and what Lyn would get was “Love, my bright star, love. Didn’t I tell you that it is the most powerful thing, and that sometimes people do not approve of love, but… Your father… I love him more than my home hates,” and Lyn was content. 

It was something Lyn wished for herself when she was a child, asking all her cousins, aunts, and uncles, having them show her their rings and tell her how they knew. The idea of love was fantastical, something grand of myths and tales, and yet even they of reality were able to experience it. Lyn would look up at the sky, to the constellation of the lovers and wonder what bounds they crossed in order to be eternally together in the most wondrous place one could be, able to dance among the stars and moons. Lyn would listen to the stories of Mother Earth and Father Sky, and how their union brought life to everything, and how great that such a powerful thing could come out of love, and how love, just like life, was a cycle. 

Vividly, Lyn remembers her father, with such a stern and serious expression, walking into their yurt, with words that she never wished to hear. Lyn was the chieftain’s daughter, only heir to the Lorca, and they would not follow a woman, not alone. There was a boy, her father told her, and her father never cried but if his voice could, Lyn thought it would, around her age, the last son of the Djute, and that it would be good for the Lorca for the two to unite. Someone she hadn’t even known, and because her own tribe held onto silly traditions. 

There was only anger in that moment, and tears streaming down her face, for her people didn’t want a future in the stars for her, they simply did not trust her and would rather put their faith in some boy from another tribe. The elders think it a good idea, her father told her, he cannot argue with them. Rules had already been broken once, they shall not be again. 

Her dreams and nightmares were put to rest when the Lorca died, and for better or for worse, she was free, though lonely, with no companionship but Alahkai, and she loved her steed, but Lyn longed for her family, to be able to speak with those she loved and for them to speak back. 

Love, after that, had been found in many forms, for her legion all its members, for her grandfather and the memory of her tribes, for her trio of fellow lordlings, who understood her in a way that no one had ever gotten close to. 

Perhaps it wasn’t constellations, but it was something, and the world would not take it away from her like it took away her tribe. It was teaching Wil about Sacaen traditions and dragging Sain away before he embarrassed himself. Love was being to able to speak in her native tongue with Guy and Rath, but also learning about Caelinese tradition from Kent. Love was spars with Hector and late night chats with Eliwood. Love was their ragtag group of many backgrounds, but a similar purpose. Love lessened pain and gave comfort. It was not something that could be replaced, and yet still something that could not replace. 

Serra had once told her that roses were a symbol of love in Lycia, that ladies of the court thought dances an elegant display of devotion, and that once again marriage for the high was in the purpose of benefit, and that once their battles were over, Caelin would need a Marquess for the lone Marchioness. Kent would explain the ceremonies to her, and Lyn tried her best to care, to pay attention, about the ceremonial bathes and cutting of a lock of hair, but a few minutes in she would sigh, ask what purpose it even had. Sain would try to teach her how to dance, but they were too slow, robotic, and the lack of speed tangled her feet, lacking the vivacity of Lorca dances. 

Young ladies such as herself should stay inside, they should be proper and poised, speak with a soft grace and stay quiet. 

Instead, Lyn would beg Hector to spar with her, refused to stop until she managed to knock him down, and found that a blade’s dance was much more preferable than on in a ballroom. 

Bonds formed on the battlefield were stronger than those forged on a dancefloor. She would more quickly trust someone who could wield a sword than one who could please Chancellor Reissman. Florina had asked her if she had ever thought of getting married, and to what kind of person. The answer was simple in Lyn’s mind, and didn’t require any thought on her part. “Someone who could stand by my side in battle, of course” she had answered, wondering what brought up the subject in her close friend. 

In Askr, Lyn was approached by a new kind of love. 

Her mind is called to the moment when a blue haired Ostian mage ran up to her, embracing her quickly and the only reaction Lyn could give was confusion. Times, however, changed, through stories of the past and the future, through the light of her daughter.There was nothing she wouldn’t do for Lilina, and wished that she could shield her daughter from all the harshness of the world, but Lilina had already experienced them. It wasn’t anything that Lyn ever thought she would experience so soon, but Askr was a empyrean world of dreams where anything could occur. 

Love in Askr was sword lessons with her daughter, full day rides on Alakhai, chance meetings with strangers, and sun shimmering through leaves and the rushing of clear cerulean streams among verdant grass speckled with wildflowers. Love was the face of a stranger staring at hydrangeas and the sullen expression of another at the sight of the smallest trinket. 

Love, more and more, became the color of the sky, in both day and night. Love was the color of cool springs and fluttering butterflies. Love was the color of her deels and the Askran sigil. Love was the color of her daughter’s eyes and her best friend’s armor. Love, then, was blue, of Father Sky and the universe. 

Perhaps it was her acceptance of love, how much it surrounded her and how tightly she pulled it around herself that blinded her to it. Love had stared her in the face for months, and still she named it incorrectly, thinking it something else, something simpler to Lyn. 

Lyn stares in the eyes of her best friend, and wonders how could she have ever been so blind. 

The words that had spelt plainly in front of her, that for the longest time seemed foreign and indecipherable, were now as clear as the stars in the sky. 

Could she do this? 

Lyn knows that there are two of the same man, that there is a possibility that her emotions toward one originate from the other, and that they are not genuine, but Lyn thinks that false. It was not the other that made her realize, but this one. Lyn knows that there is another of her that he knew before, that perhaps another claimed his heart or was to set out on it, but her truth is this, and it may not be his truth, still that does not invalidate hers. When she thinks of what she loves, her mind goes to talks in the meadows where the two had met against all odds and infirmary visits, she thinks of the way he speaks to Lilina and what terrible jokes he makes about other heroes. 

She is not a woman who was silent, who could hide her emotions, and damn those who believe she should. What worth was loving someone if you didn’t even the courage to say it. 

Her answer was yes, she could. 

Whether or not it was mutual, that was different, and perhaps there is slight apprehension, but this is not something she can ignore, and if he did not feel the same, then that was that. He was just as free as she was, and he was often more silent on serious matters than she, but Lyn knew that his answer would be clear, that he was a man of action more than word. Does her mind have enough time to consider the consequences, all the little and numerous what ifs? The swordswoman is quick in all aspects, but her thought lags when her mouth races. 

The confession slips out simply, unprompted, and she does not know what to expect from Hector, but that never was processed as a risk. He understands her, that Sacaens never lie and that she was never silent on anything. There is a half thought that he’ll run from her, much like all the other times, but Lyn has to remind herself that they were not the same. That never influenced anything in her heart, for there were greater divides in those who loved than time or reality. 

A laugh escapes her lips at his stunned expression, and she adds, “If you don’t, that’s fine, really, but you know me, I’m not good at keeping secrets, and well… being in love with you isn’t one that I could even try to hide, Hector,”


End file.
